


Fields of Barley

by lindsey_grissom



Category: Ashes to Ashes, Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-15
Updated: 2008-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-10 14:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsey_grissom/pseuds/lindsey_grissom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>You'll remember me, when the west wind moves.</i>  At the end, Gene thinks of the man he loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fields of Barley

It's dark and cold, wherever he is. He should know where he is, shouldn't he? He drove here after all. He always drives now.

He tries to think, but the more connections he makes, the more he becomes aware of the sharp pain in his chest, and the lessening in how much he can breathe.

Someone's holding his hand and his head is pillowed against a cloth covered thigh. Every now and again another hand brushes against the hair on his forehead and for one insane, deluded, painful moment he thinks it's Sam.

But then he notices that the thigh is softer than he remembers, the nails are longer and he has to open his eyes, even though it hurts, because the memories hurt much more.

 

_*Soft skin as his hand is caught and held; tense muscles relax when he squeezes back instead of pulling away.*_

 

Drake. Of course it is, even though he now realises part of him was still hoping, clinging on like it has for so long.

Her hazel-green eyes stare at him in concern and fear, so he forces his lips into his usual smirk. It must be a pale imitation, because the eyes don't change. But then those eyes are a weak reflection of the ones he still finds himself wishing for. So he supposes they're even.

She opens her mouth, but he's still stuck on brown eyes and the memory is stronger than his vision.

 

_*Brown eyes so close, filled with anxiety and no small amount of fear. He smiles, hopes it's reassuring and leans in close, brings those eyes even closer. There's more lust than fear now, passion more than anxiety. It's much better.*_

 

"Gene?"

He refocuses, concentrating on the woman holding him. Bloody typical. He finally gets this close to her and he's in too much pain to do anything. And all he can think of is Sam. Typical, ironic even. Not, however, a surprise.

He blinks at her and that seems to be enough because she continues.

"I don't belong here. I don't know if it's in my head, all of this, or if he was right and I really have travelled back here."

He doesn't think it's the blood loss that's making her so impossible to understand. The two of them are so similar; his two mysterious DIs.

"What did Sam tell you?"

 

_*"You need to be sure.", "You're not gonna hit me now are you?", "This would be so much easier back…", "in Hyde?" a soft sigh, "Yeah, back in Hyde.", "There is no Hyde. I'm from a different time, Gene, the future.", "I need you to believe me, I love you and I need you to believe me." a smile, blinding, "No, we're not all like me in the twenty-first century.", "I came back for you."*_

 

He can't tell her any of that. They are his memories. All he has left.

"No...Nothing." He barely believes the rasp is his own voice, but it hurts so it must be.

"Sam, he, there was an accident, a car, he went into a coma, didn't wake up for a while. When he did, he kept talking about being in nineteen-seventy-three, told the most amazing stories about the life there, about the team he worked on. His team, your team. No one believed him, of course, and then he got distant. Didn't speak anymore, about anything. He threw himself off of a roof. He died on impact. I think, now, I think he was trying to get back here. You said he worked for you for years? So maybe it worked."

 

_*"I came back for you." Words as soft as the lips against his own. Heat and passion, but they're not rough now, it's, dare he think it, sweet. He loves it, loves him and he thinks, as much as he can with those hot hands moving lower, that he will tell him that, the next time he hears the words himself.*_

 

She's saying everything right; that's how Sam described it, but he never told anyone else, and even Cartwright never knew about Sam's suicidal return. No wonder he had seen the similarities between them. He must be a magnet for lost travellers of the future.

The pain spikes and he chokes on a gasp. Breathing is becoming a chore now, instead of an instinct. He won't be that magnet for much longer.

She must realise he can't, won't speak, because she just continues to ramble on in a way that's familiar but alien, and eventually his eyes close and her voice goes deeper, her hands get stronger and he can smell Sam somewhere, everywhere. He had almost forgotten that smell.

 

_*He breathes deep, nose pressed against neck and collarbone. There's aftershave, soap and sweat, but deeper there's something that must just be Sam. He tries to imprint it on his memory, keep it locked in his nose. His tongue slips out and he tastes, nips, kisses and revels in every gasp, groan and moan.*_

 

Drake is gone completely now, or maybe she's in the same place and he's gone somewhere else. He doesn't particularly care, because Sam is here and that's enough.

That's everything.

He worries for a moment where he'll be when he opens his eyes. Sam died in both his times, so are they some other time, or in the lands of a religion that would condemn them?

He realises it's fear that's stopping him from opening his eyes. The pain's gone, he feels alive, which is just wrong right about now. Fear didn't stop them before; he never let it come between himself and anything he wanted. He isn't about to start now.

 

_*"Sam." A breath, barely there. "Gene." A whisper like wind. "Love." They both swallow that sigh together.*_

 

A smile on his face, he opens his eyes.

 

**End.**


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